A Dog of a Weekend
by la z boy
Summary: When Harry volunteered to dog-sit Fang for the weekend, he thought it was going to be a piece of cauldron cake. He soon discovers just how wrong he is.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I realize that I have a few stories going at once, and I fully intend to finish both Welcome to the Family and Beckett the Babysitter, but this idea recently came to me, and I just HAD to start getting it down. Credit goes out to Blackwolf-20, who initially had this idea and was gracious enough to let me use it. The story, right now, should end up being only 4 or 5 chapters when all is said and done.**

**I hope those of you who read it end up enjoying it. :)**

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><p><strong> Chapter 1<strong>

"Again, Harry, I really appreciate yeh doin' this," Hagrid stated, beaming behind his bushy beard.

"It's no problem at all, Hagrid. Really," Harry assured the towering groundskeeper with a smile of his own. "It's the least I can do after all you've done for me over the years."

"Righ', well, I've left notes for yeh, explainin' everything yeh'll need ter know. Not that there's much to it, mind. It's just feedin' him, makin' sure he stays active an' maybe bathin' him if he starts ter work up a smell. Nothin' too complicated."

Fang, the mushy-faced Neopolitan Mastiff that Hagrid had owned for a good many years, was currently curled up in the large armchair situated against the left wall of Hagrid's hut, lazily observing the exchange taking place between his master and the sixth year Hogwarts student who had proven to be a usual presence inside this house. The two of them stood by the main door, a massive and bulging bag slung over Hagrid's right shoulder while a more regularly-sized bag lay on the floor beside Harry's feet.

"I hope I ain't puttin' you out," Hagrid continued. "It's just that Fang gets so worked up if nobody's here with him for a long time."

"How many times must I tell you it's all right, Hagrid? Besides, it's the weekend, and I have everything I'll need right here." Harry lightly nudged the bag with his leg.

"Good, good," said Hagrid. "Well, if all goes well, I should be back early Sunday evening with fresh Blast-Ended Skrewts. I still can't believe I have ter go all the way ter Scotland ter get 'em. These blokes are usually good abou' transportin' them here without all the fuss. But seein' as I need 'em fer class on Monday, can't exactly wait around, can I?"

Harry merely nodded sympathetically. The topic of class, in this case Care of Magical Creatures, proved possibly sensitive right now. He still wasn't sure just how much Hagrid had gotten over him, Ron and Hermione dropping the class this year, but Harry's lingering feelings of guilt had no doubt played a role in him agreeing to "dog-sit" Fang for the weekend while Hagrid was away. Harry figured the gesture would serve as an extra, unspoken apology. Plus, it wasn't as if Fang was an unruly dog. Harry figured this weekend would be a piece of cauldron cake.

"I'm just glad Dumbledore agreed, too," sighed Hagrid as he opened the large front door.

Fang perked his head up instantly, clearly under the impression he was tagging along, but Hagrid denied him his wish with a ruffle of his fur. "Sorry, Fang, but you have to stay here with Harry."

The dog immediately whimpered in protest, but Hagrid remained steadfast.

"I'll be back, don' worry. Just be good." He turned towards Harry. "Don' you worry, either. Yeh know by now Fang's a sweetheart."

Harry grinned. "Of course he is. And we'll have loads of fun. I'm positive."

Hagrid nodded appreciatively, patted Fang once more , said, "See yeh on Sunday," and exited the hut, pulling the door closed behind him. This left Harry and Fang alone together in a sudden and complete silence. After a few moments, Harry sighed, scooped up his bag and took a few steps over to set it on top of Hagrid's giant-size bed.

Despite the gargantuan nature of the piece of the furniture and the rest of the hut for that matter, especially in comparison to Harry, Harry still couldn't help but notice how cramped the quarters were. It was essentially a one-room house and completely devoid of a bathroom, which meant that Harry would have to venture back up to the school every time nature called or whenever he would need to shower. For meals, Dumbledore had arranged for the dining table to be enchanted for the weekend the same way the tables in the Great Hall were enchanted to have the food appear on top. Save for any time spent with Ron and Hermione, it was to be a very nomadic weekend for Harry, as he couldn't leave Fang alone and he wasn't sure how well the dog would assimilate into any of Harry's normal downtime activities.

But Harry wasn't terribly concerned about any changes to his schedule. Not that he'd even had much of a schedule for the weekend to begin with.

Once he'd finished putting away his clothes in Hagrid's enormous dresser, as well as any toiletries on a shelf over the sink, the silence was broken by a fresh sound; the sound of frantic paws against wood.

Harry turned around to see Fang in front of the door, furiously pawing the door. A few seconds later, whimpering joined in.

_Not even ten minutes in, and already he's at it._

"Fang!" Harry said with affection in his voice. "It's alright, boy, it's alright. Come here! I'm still with you!"

At the sound of his voice, Fang abruptly turned around towards Harry with an expression on his baggy face that seemed to say, "Oh! Why, yes you are!" Fang just stared contemplatively at Harry for a few moments before finally letting out a gruff "Woof!" and charged.

In the span of the few seconds it took for Fang to close the distance between them, Harry quickly realized his simple mistake. "Slow down, Fang! Fang! Heel -"

Fang tackled Harry with enough force to knock the teenage wizard on his back. Not even waiting until Harry hit the floor, Fang began licking him unapologetically. An onslaught of thick drool was lathered all over Harry's face and upper chest, messing up both his glasses and the top of his school robe. Fang didn't stop until he was satisfied at his "sliming" of Harry, at which point the dog was content to use his temporary caregiver as a pillow and lie on top of him.

The weight slightly winded Harry. "Off, Fang!" he commanded in a strained voice. "Get off, please! OFF!"

Fang clearly was trained to recognize the word, because he instantly stood up and made his way back to the armchair he had been occupying earlier. This left Harry still sprawled on the floor of the hut, regaining his breath. Once he had, he removed his glasses momentarily and used his right sleeve to wipe away all the slobber now accumulated on his face.

"Eugh," Harry breathed.

He spent a bit of time wiping down his glasses before replacing them on his face and getting up to see Fang regarding him with a curious expression, as if he were confused about why Harry was wiping drool off of himself.

"Okay, that was my own fault," Harry admitted to the canine. He looked down at his outer robes' upper chest area, which was stained with saliva. Immediately, Harry undid the buttons on them and tossed them so that they lay across the large sink. Glancing at his watch, Harry noted that it was already dinnertime. As if on cue, Hagrid's table magically became loaded up with an assortment of delicious-looking food and the smells of each spread through the hut like wildfire.

"Read my mind," Harry remarked.

He started to make his way over to a chair when he was stopped in his tracks by knocking on the other side of the door. Fang jerked upright instantly, obviously thinking it was Hagrid, who'd had a change of heart. But he was to be disappointed as Harry opened the door, while gesturing for Fang to stay put, to reveal Ron and Hermione standing outside.

"Hey, mate," Ron greeted with a grin. "Fancy some company for dinner?"

Harry grinned in return and stepped aside invitingly. "Of course, come in!"

Ron and Hermione made their way inside and Harry shut the door behind them.

Most of the evening was spent with the trio seated around Hagrid's large table, eating and conversing with one another, while Fang remained sprawled on the armchair. Towards the end of the meal, he got up and sat beside Harry with the expectation that his temporary owner would feed him scraps. Fortunately for Fang, Harry was kind enough to oblige and even rub his head afterwards.

"Are you going to be alright here, by yourself tonight?" Ron asked in a teasing fashion once dinner was done, as if Harry were a small child afraid of the dark.

"I'll be fine," Harry retorted, his hand still on top of Fang's head. "Are _you _going to be alright, without me to keep you company?" he asked back in an equally joking fashion, to which Ron snorted.

"Well, if you find you need anything, Harry," Hermione spoke up seriously, "you know Ron and I will be happy to help."

Ron initially had an expression on his face which indicated that he would rather enjoy watching his best friend squirm if presented with trouble from Fang, but Hermione's pointed elbow jab made him adopt an agreeable look. "Sure, mate. Just say the word."

"Thanks," Harry said while glancing down at his watch. "You two might want to get going, before it's too late and Filch starts lurking about for stragglers. See you tomorrow?" he added as the three of them got up from their seats.

"You can count on it," Hermione confirmed with a smile.

Fang joined the trio as they made their way outside into the early night, the sky already darkened just a bit and lights shining through the windows of Hogwarts. While Harry, Ron and Hermione lingered at the foot of the hut's front steps, Fang peeled off into Hagrid's garden, sniffing the ground furiously.

"Have a good night, Harry," said Hermione, giving her best friend a tight hug. Ron merely clapped him on the shoulder before the two of them departed back to the castle.

Harry watched them until they became tiny dots on the horizon. Once they had, he glanced briefly up at the blackening sky before looking over to where Fang was in the garden. "Come on, Fang!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together to better get the dog's attention. "Let's get back inside!"

But Fang didn't move. He kept his head down towards the ground, his attention clearly focused on something other than Harry. Rather than calling Fang's name again, Harry sighed and approached the canine to get a better look at what he was doing.

As it turned out, Fang was busy sniffing and chewing what appeared to be a large, black sock. Harry curiously squatted down to get a proper look. From the size of the clothing article, it was a foregone conclusion that it belonged to Hagrid, explaining why Fang was so interested in it.

_Must've fallen out of his sack, _Harry thought to himself as he reached out to take it.

Fang, though, wasn't about to relinquish the sock.

While Harry tried to get it out of Fang's mouth, Fang either took it as a sign that Harry wished to play or refused to let his one remaining memento of his owner go. Harry couldn't be sure which it was, but nonetheless, it resulted in a game of tug of war between him and Fang.

"Fang, drop it!" Harry commanded while struggling with the dog. "I know it's Hagrid's, but you don't want any germs in your mouth!"

It eventually got to where Harry and Fang were no longer jerking about as a result of the struggle, but rather leaning away from one another, each with a firm grip on the sock in between them, which was starting to rip from the exertion.

"I ... said ... drop it!" Harry grunted out before giving one big tug.

However, at that precise moment, Fang suddenly seemed to become disinterested in the game, because he released the sock without further conflict. This meant, though, that Harry was propelled backwards as a result of his own momentum. If there had been empty, solid ground behind him at the time, then it wouldn't have been much of an issue. But, as it turned out, Harry had been standing in front of one of Hagrid's large pumpkins, and that was what broke his fall.

The giant pumpkin broke apart upon impact, leaving Harry to tumble right into a mass of pumpkin guts and seeds. There was a splatter effect, where most of the muck bathed Harry in a thick glob as he lay there stunned, messy and with Hagrid's sock still clutched in his hand, one of the few areas of his body not covered in pumpkin innards.

Harry was still laying there by the time Fang came over, his face hanging directly over Harry's, obviously nonplussed about putting Harry in the pumpkin in the first place.

"Brilliant," Harry dryly remarked.

But before Harry could move to get up, Fang inched his face closer so that he could bestow upon Harry a very slobbery lick. He panted happily once done.

"Thanks," Harry said, his face slightly scrunched up in disgust.

_What a weekend this should be, _he thought tiredly to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: And here is where things gradually start getting out of control for Harry.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

The newly-installed doggy door that Hagrid had put in not long ago flapped loudly before settling in place after Harry closed the front door behind him. Fang hopped up into the armchair once again and rested his head on the left arm, fixing his lazy gaze on Harry. Harry stood still in front of the hut's main door, the pumpkin guts and seeds remaining in place all over his school uniform, almost giving the impression that Harry had just done battle with a magically transformed pumpkin and won rather than simply falling backwards into one. Two sets of messy footprints lay behind him, cutting off at the spot in which Harry currently stood. He finished giving himself a once-over and glanced at Fang.

"Good thing I have my wand," he remarked wearily.

Harry stepped carefully out of his stained shoes while retrieving his wand from his back pocket. It came out attached to a long line of stretchable pumpkin muck, which Harry merely flecked off with a quick flick. He then trained the wand on himself.

"_Scourgify,_" he enunciated clearly.

With a purposeful trace all down his person, the pumpkin mess gradually vanished off his clothes and evaporated into nothingness. Not a minute had passed before Harry's school uniform looked as clean as if it had been freshly laundered.

"Let's not do that again, alright?" Harry directed at Fang, who positioned his head down on top of his two curled front legs as if to say, "If you say so."

Harry went over to look out the front window of the hut, which had a clear view of Hagrid's garden and the now ruined Pumpkin which lay in the center of all the other vegetables. But given the darkness of the sky and the reflection of the lights from inside, Harry could barely make out the sight.

"I'll deal with that in the morning," he concluded.

The remainder of the night was spent with Harry beginning work on a Transfiguration essay due the next week. At one point, Fang got out of the armchair and came over to lay in a ball at Harry's feet while he sat writing at the dining table and occasionally, Harry would take a moment to pause and either rub Fang on the head or give him a nice belly scratch, with Fang clearly enjoying both.

Before Harry knew it, it was nearly 11:45, and his eyelids were starting to droop. That was when he decided to place his quill in his ink bottle and call it a night, making a mental note to ask Hermione to read over what he'd written for his essay so far. Harry sighed and pushed his chair out from the table, stretching slightly as he got up and made his way over to Hagrid's enormous bed.

The bed looked like it could easily fit three people Harry's size, owing to Hagrid's own size. At least there'd be plenty of room to move around during the night, as Harry would tend to do while sleeping. Normally, he'd start the night lying on his side, but would find himself flat on his stomach by the time he awoke in the morning. From the looks of it, Harry wouldn't doubt he'd perhaps find himself on the opposite side of the bed by the time the sun rose.

He quickly changed out of his uniform, placing his wand on the bedside table in so doing, and slipped into his pajamas. While he did, Fang slunk over to his cage and went inside to plop down on top of a large cushion.

"You know, you don't _have _to sleep there," said Harry, feeling slightly sad at the assumption on Fang's part that his crate was where Harry wanted him to sleep. But Fang didn't seem to mind at all, because he just shifted around momentarily to get more comfortable. Harry sighed, shook his head, removed his glasses to put them down beside his wand, pulled back the bedsheets and settled down in between them. He groped for his wand and when he found it, used it to extinguish all of the lights in the hut, thereby plunging everything into a darkness broke only by the moonlight filtering in through the windows.

Harry put his wand back in its resting place, turned over onto his left side, and fell asleep soon after.

Harry would be woken up on three separate occasions during the night.

The first came when he was awoken by an uncomfortable feeling, which had to do with the fact that Hagrid's bedsheets were so thick and large, that they were causing Harry to sweat considerably underneath them. So, Harry threw them off of him and groggily got up to strip out of his sticky pajamas until he was just wearing his pair of light blue boxers, which had a pattern of Golden Snitches on them. To help matters, Harry walked over to the nearest window and opened it, to let the cool night air relieve the heat of the covers. It worked, as Harry had dozed off again in under five minutes.

The second time was a result of the sound of Fang's doggy door flapping, signaling that Fang had gone out, most likely for a call of nature, and the third time was when Fang returned a few minutes later.

The next time Harry woke up, it was officially morning. But it wasn't the bright sunshine filtering inside from the open window and thus bathing the hut in natural light that awoke Harry. Instead, it was the incessant tongue of Fang, which applied a layer of warm saliva over Harry's face so that he was pulled from his dreams abruptly.

Once he had gotten his bearings, Harry shifted his head back away from Fang's and wiped his face off on the covers. "Good morning to you, too," Harry said before letting out a large yawn. When finished, he regarded the blurry lump of black directly in front of him. "I suppose you woke me up because you want breakfast?" Harry asked in a manner similar to that of a parent asking their young child the same question.

The black blur let out a deep "Woof!" of confirmation, prompting Harry to throw back the bedsheets.

"Alright, then. Just let me get my glasses on."

He reached for the bedside table and snatched up his glasses once his fingers found one of the sides. Fang was already over by the cabinets, on top of which sat the large bag of dog food he normally ate. Harry had inquired yesterday why Hagrid didn't simply just leave the bag in a place where Harry could more easily reach it, to which Hagrid had replied, "If I do tha', Fang'll jus' rip it open first and eat it all." So, Hagrid had left a footstool by the base of the cabinets, a footstool Harry could use to easily raise himself higher and retrieve the dog food. Also at the bottom of the cabinets was Fang's feeding bowl, which was silver and had his name engraved along the side.

"Let's get you fed, then."

Still in only his underwear, Harry moved the footstool to the front of the cabinets and quickly eyed the distance between it and the food, judging he'd indeed be able to reach it once on top of the stool. Harry carefully climbed up onto the stool while Fang eagerly watched his every move, even licking his chops in anticipation.

Harry's hand was slowly coming into close proximity to the bag. "Almost ... got it." Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. _Why don't I just use my wand? _He was almost ashamed that the idea hadn't come to him beforehand. Then again, he _was _still in the middle of properly waking up. So, Harry turned around and made to step down off of the footstool, but Fang obviously wasn't having any of that.

He let out another bark and stood up on his hind legs and used his front paws to lightly shove Harry back towards the cabinets in a gesture that said, "No! I'm hungry! Feed me!" In the case of Fang, though, there was no such thing as "lightly shoving."

Fang pushed against Harry with such force that he was practically knocked roughly backwards into the cabinets. He collided with them hard enough so that not only did the footstool go skidding out from under his feet and ultimately topple over on the floor, thereby causing Harry's feet to plop down with a thud, but also a few items contained in the cabinets, such as dinner dishes, precariously rocked back and forth but fortunately did not go crashing down and breaking. However, Harry bumping into the cabinets _did _have an effect on the bag of dog food, wherein it shook violently along with the cabinets until it finally tipped over while Harry slid and slumped down. He rested safely against the bottom of the cabinets for a moment.

This wouldn't have been so much of a problem if the bag had been properly sealed, but as it turned out, Hagrid had neglected to do so before leaving.

What made the situation even worse was that it was the kind of dog food that was thick and sloppy, rather than just a collection of bite-size snacks. As a result, the gooey food cascaded down on top of Harry in lumps that pelted every bit of him they could find. The downpour of dog food was topped off by the bag itself falling off of the cabinet and landing right in the middle of Harry's lap, accompanied by a grunt of frustration and discomfort from Harry.

He certainly _wanted _to get up and cleanse himself of the mess, but was stopped from doing so by Fang, who just saw Harry covered in his breakfast and figured that his sitter was just as good as his bowl, so he wasted no time in licking every bite of food he could off of Harry.

"Talk about a wake-up call," Harry mumbled to himself before Fang licked a large portion of dog food from Harry's face. "You're welcome, by the way," he grumbled to the dog.

Harry tolerated being covered in the dog food for one more minute as he took the opportunity to properly put food into Fang's bowl, whereupon Fang made the switch from person to dish without missing a beat. Heaving a big sigh, he turned around and peered through the gaps of dog food smeared on his glasses to make his way over to the bedside table, where Harry intended to use his wand again to clean himself, except there was one problem.

His wand was missing.

"What the bloody hell? I left it _right there_!"

Doing his best to remain calm, Harry decided it was best to first get the dog food off of his glasses, owing to the possibility that the muck was obstructing his view to where his wand currently lay. Slowly and carefully, he made his way over to the sink, where there was a rag Harry moistened up and then used to wipe away the smelly dog food from his glasses. Finally having them be clean again, Harry replaced his glasses on his face and looked directly at the bedside table. However, that meant he could properly take in the interior of the hut in its current state, which was _not _what he'd seen just minutes earlier.

The benefit of now being fully awake meant that Harry spotted the trail of dirt which zigzagged all around the floor, and even was on the armchair by the front door. His mouth slightly open, Harry tracked the dirt to its source, the source being Fang.

Harry glanced over and out the front window, where he could see the front yard and garden, but more importantly, he could see at least three fresh dirt mounds in the grass. Those dirt mounds appeared to have something buried underneath them, and suddenly, everything fell into place.

"Did you ... _bury my wand?!_" Harry exclaimed in utter shock. "It's not a bone!"

He didn't even wait for the possibility of Fang answering his question. Harry tore out of the hut and hurried over to the dirt mounds outside. There, he fell to his knees and wasted no time in undigging the closest one to him. Nothing. Harry immediately went to the next; nothing there, either. That could only mean that his wand was underneath the third dirt mound, but his hopes were dashed when he was met with the same result as the last two times.

Harry had to breathe in and out heavily in order to keep himself calm, or at least as calm as possible. "FA-"

His cry of outrage was cut off by a furry mass, obviously the dog in question, knocking into Harry from behind and making him go flat on top of all the fresh dirt with an, "Oooof!"

Fang was still hungry, as evidenced by his mouth finding every bit of dog food left on Harry's body that it could. Harry was too angry to just lie there, so he scrambled to his feet and wordlessly made his way back inside the hut. There, he used the wet rag to wash off his hands and arms before collecting a clean set of clothes, which he tossed into his empty bag. Harry's next order of business was to step into his shoes and throw his outer school robe around himself, which adequately covered up his half-naked state. Next, he gathered up Fang's leash and carried the items he had in hand outside.

"I need to get clean!" Harry snarled at Fang. "_Then _I'll deal with all this!"

And so Harry and Fang began their trek up to the castle, where Harry fully intended to use the shower in the Prefects' bathroom he'd been granted access to by Dumbledore for the weekend. The hot water, he figured, would help him unwind.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Alright, so I know it's been a while since the last update, but here finally is the last chapter. Originally, I had planned on one more chapter after this, but ultimately decided that would be stretching it out too much. Anyway, I'm happy both with where I chose to end this story and how it all turned out; it sure was fun to write. I hope you enjoy the conclusion!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

The hot water cascading down on Harry served as a welcome relief from the stress that had built up even more during his and Fang's trek up to the castle. Before stepping into the shower of the Prefects' bathroom, which had been completely empty upon arrival, Harry had secured Fang's leash to a pole in the wall nearby and hung his clean change of clothes upon a second pole that was stationed a bit higher up on the same wall. That left Fang with nothing to occupy himself with while Harry cleaned off in the shower, but Harry wasn't too concerned about what Fang could or could not do while he waited, especially after all the grief Hagrid's dog had caused him already, in the span of less than twenty-four hours, no less.

Harry stood in the shower with the palms of his hands pressed against the tiled inner wall, all of the soap washed away from his body, but he wasn't ready yet to step out; the water was still too soothing, and the effect almost made Harry want to drift off to sleep again. Although, part of his hesitation was a slight reluctance to go out and have to deal with the surprisingly troubling Fang again.

_Come off it, Harry! _scolded his inner voice. _He's just a dog. Now, you're going to get out of this shower, get dressed, get Ron and Hermione to help you find your wand and take back control of the situation!_

That quick pep talk was enough to make Harry turn off the running water and reach up to his right, where the towel he'd slung over the curtain pole of the shower was waiting. It took mere moments fir Harry to dry off his upper half, after which he replaced his glasses on his face and then wrapped the light green piece of fabric around his waist, patting and rubbing tight across his legs to absorb the moisture there. Harry ripped back the curtain with a renewed sense of confidence, but that was immediately vanquished when his eyes fell upon the sight awaiting him on the other side.

Apparently, he had underestimated Fang, because his fresh set of clothes, which Harry had been so sure was out of the dog's reach, now lay in torn tatters at Fang's feet. Harry's shirt was practically a collection of ribbons now while his pants were literally torn completely down the middle, each pant leg its own entity. The socks were nowhere to be seen at all, leaving Harry to assume that Fang had simply gobbled those up altogether. The only article of clothing that had remained intact was Harry's pair of underwear, and he didn't know whether to feel relieved that was still something left for him to wear or acknowledge the irony of it.

Harry shot Fang a withering glare. "Thanks for that," he remarked in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Fang regarded his caretaker with a relatively impassive face, as if him ruining Harry's clothes was something that had been expected of him.

All Harry could do was stand there, his temper slowly rising by the second, as he considered his options. He could either risk going up to the Gryffindor Common Room wearing that clean pair of underwear with only his robe to cover himself, and risk running into a few students and maybe even professors along the way, or he could simply hightail it back down to Hagrid's hut as fast as possible. Both options involved the goal of a clean set of clothes, but some short deliberation made Harry conclude the hut was the shortest distance away. Once properly dressed, he would come back to the castle to enlist the aid of Ron and Hermione to reclaim his wand from somewhere in Hagrid's yard.

"It'll be the crate for you when we get back," Harry curtly informed Fang as he started slipping on his underwear. Fang kept up his innocent demeanor by giving a brief whimper and tilting his head to the right.

Harry spent a few minutes tightly buttoning his robe around himself, making sure no indication of what lay underneath was visible, and stuffed his ruined set of clothes back in the bag he'd brought them up there in. He untied Fang's leash and trudged the two of them over to the bathroom door, which Harry unlocked and peeked through to see if there was anybody in the hallway; there was not a soul. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, Harry opened the door all the way and ushered Fang alongside him, falling into a very quickened pace towards the archway that led out onto the grounds.

After he and Fang had covered a bit of grassy distance and before they reached a slight decline, Harry paused a moment to catch his breath. He realized then just how fast he'd been walking. Harry relinquished his grip on Fang's leash as he closed his eyes to let the cool early morning breeze wash over him; all he needed was just another few quiet moments to regain his calm.

With his eyes shut, though, Harry was unable to notice Fang spot a squirrel close by and take an immediate interest in said animal. The squirrel was scrounging around in the grass for any traces of nuts, but was coming up empty. The closer it came to where Harry was currently standing, the tenser Fang got. The two creatures remained still for a few more moments, the squirrel focused more on its hunt while Fang wouldn't let the newly-arrived rodent out of his sight. The first of them to make any movement was the squirrel, who began circling around Harry, who was none the wiser about the event playing out right there in front of him. Fang naturally had to follow the squirrel, and the two quickly became engaged in a slight chase of sorts.

Fang's limp leash followed in his wake, and his proximity to Harry was so close that the leash was easily able to wrap itself around Harry's ankles, with Harry still unaware of what was going on. Fang and the squirrel circled around Harry a total of six times, which ensured that the leash was wrapped nice and tight around the ankles of the teenage wizard, and it was that very tightness that made Harry open his eyes again. By then, the squirrel had abandoned its ring around the posey routine and was scampering away down the decline that lead down to Hagrid's hut.

"What in the bloody ...?" Harry regarded his tied-up ankles in confusion and then looked at Fang. "What's with you this weekend? Are you always like this around Hagrid?"

Harry bent down to untangle the leash from himself, but he was too late in taking the initiative. Before Harry's hands could even touch the leash, Fang had taken off in pursuit of the squirrel, barking loudly the instant he sprang into motion.

Harry felt like a cartoon character from those television shows Dudley used to watch, simply waiting in that instant for his inevitable moment of slapstick-style humiliation as his eyes became wide in defeated anticipation. He helplessly watched as the length of leash between him and Fang quickly tightened until the momentum finally pulled Harry forward with a great lurch. Harry's legs were yanked out from underneath him and dragged forward, causing him to briefly fly through the air with an, "Aaaaaaaaah!" before being plopped sideways in the grass and rolled down the small hill in the wake of Fang.

The momentum Harry gained during his little "trip" increased with each passing second, and he could feel every leaf and twig he passed over on his way down. The twigs especially stood out because they pricked slightly against his skin every time he rolled over one. Harry also felt patches of dirt rubbing off on both his robes and bits of bare skin, namely his face. He just took comfort in the fact that there were no big rocks anywhere in his path.

By the time he finally came to a stop, right by the rotting remnants of the ruined pumpkin from yesterday no less, Harry was a dizzy, dirtied mess and had to stay on the ground for a few moments in order to recapture his bearings. Flecks of dirt dotted his glasses, slightly obscuring his vision, but not so much that he couldn't see ahead of him. Once he felt good enough to sit up, he did so and was met with the sight of Fang sitting before him, regarding Harry with that cocked head Harry was now starting to find both annoying and mocking.

Harry grunted and briefly shook his head to help clear it. Next, he went about untying Fang's leash from around his ankles, all the while wishing he had his wand back. He scrambled to his feet once he was free, taking a moment to steady himself after a quick bout of dizziness overcame him.

"That does it!" Harry declared. "I don't care whether you get lonely or not, it's the crate for you! And you'll stay there while I go back up to the castle, take another shower, _not _have to worry about my change of clothes getting ripped to pieces in the process and get Ron and Hermione to come help me dig up my wand that _you _so graciously hid somewhere around here. It hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours, and already I'm wishing for Hagrid to come back! Maybe time in your crate is just what you need to calm the bloody hell down!"

The outburst was enough to make Fang, an intimidating presence in his own right, quiver just a bit and also whimper while he rested his head between his front legs.

Harry felt no sympathy or regret, however, so he took a firm handful of Fang's leash and led him back inside the hut, where he wasted no time in placing the overactive and troublemaking hound inside his small cage. Fang kept up his wounded demeanor once he'd been shut inside, but still, Harry showed no remorse. He was simply glad to have some time to himself for now, unencumbered by his four-legged problem for the weekend.

* * *

><p>"He's just a dog, mate," Ron said in slight incredulity as he, Hermione and Harry stood at the foot of the handful of stairs leading into Hagrid's hut. The front door was wide open, offering to Harry a clear view of Fang still in his cage from his current vantage point. Fang lay with his head on his front paws, looking deflated at having to be confined.<p>

"_You _spend some time alone with him, then," Harry fired back. "See all the chaos he causes in just thirty minutes. I bet you'd be singing a different tune then."

The trio had just finished unearthing and replacing the small mountains of dirt dotted about Hagrid's lawn, successfully finding and returning Harry's wand to its owner. Ron and Hermione had done nearly all of the work themselves with simple flicks of their own wands, leaving Harry to mainly stand by the side with folded arms while he waited. Now, Harry gripped his dirt-covered wand tightly in his right hand.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Harry, if Fang is causing you so much trouble, then why not send an owl to Hagrid asking for some tips on how to rein him in? Better yet, Ron and I would be more than happy to lend you a hand until Hagrid comes back, if you think it's necessary."

Midway through Hermione's offer, Ron made a noise as if to silence her, but it didn't work. It only served to make Hermione glare at him as if Ron had offended her.

"As much as Ron would obviously enjoy doing that," Harry replied sarcastically, "I just think what I've been lacking so far is a firm hand. I figure as long as I show that, then Fang should be more manageable for the rest of the weekend." He glanced back inside the hut at Fang before adding, "Besides, if I can't handle just a _dog_, then what does that say about me?"

"So ... does that mean you _don't _need Hermione and I as a safety net?" Ron asked pointedly.

"It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but if I intend to be an Auror one day, then I'd rather not have a failed weekend taking care of a dog hanging over my head."

"That's a good attitude to have, Harry," Hermione said with a warm smile. "I've always believed there's not a problem in the world that can't be solved as long as you put your mind to it."

"Oh, really? We had _no _idea!" Ron scoffed with a roll of his eyes, eliciting a scowl from Hermione.

"And on _that _lovely note, we'll leave you to it, Harry, and see you once Hagrid returns. Good luck!" Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and half-pulled him away back to the castle.

"Oy! Let go of me, woman!"

The verbal exchange made Harry reflexively grin as he stepped back into the hut, shutting the door behind him. He kept his wand dangling in his hand as he sighed deeply and regarded the area around him.

The bed was unmade, dog food was still strewn across the floor and the place just looked a downright mess. Fang had perked up slightly upon noticing Harry coming inside, but Harry ignored the canine. Instead, he raised his wand and swept it across the room, causing the bedsheets to slide up over the pillow and straighten themselves out while the overturned bag of dog food righted itself and levitated up to rest on top of the kitchen counter; what had spilled all over the floor vanished into nothingness.

With the hut now spotless and everything returned to a state of stasis, Harry felt he could finally breathe in relief. He walked over to the dining table and flopped himself gratefully into a chair, keen to simply relax. But before he could get fully situated, something on the table caught his eye.

That was where he'd left Hagrid's to-do list concerning Fang for the weekend, and there was one entry which was underlined that stood out. Harry read Hagrid's scrawled handwriting, which said, "Give Fang a bath. He can smell up a storm if not."

_Just when I thought I could have a few moments of peace and quiet, _Harry thought exasperatedly to himself.

He looked over at Fang, now sitting up as straight as the confines of his cage would allow, and shook his head. "Well, we wouldn't want you smelling bad now, would we?"

Fang barked as if to say, "No!"

* * *

><p>The metal tub which Hagrid normally used to bathe Fang turned out to be sitting outside at the back of the hut, requiring Harry to use his wand to float it inside after clearing a space for it. He used a spell to fill the tub with water and rolled up his sleeves as he retrieved the required bathing items from a nearby shelf. The next step was to get Fang in the water, and the dog did so without much effort, but also with a decent-sized splash that got on the floor and Harry slightly.<p>

That wasn't the only splash that occurred, however.

Fang turned out to be a rather uncooperative bathing subject. He moved furiously about in the tub, doing his best to try and avoid Harry, who had a soapy scrub and couldn't seem to use it for more than three seconds at a time. Harry had soap suds covering his arms and staining his shirt, and he was quickly becoming exhausted.

"Is there a particular way Hagrid cleans you or something?" he asked in annoyance. "Or are you just opposed to baths in general?"

He attempted to come at Fang once more with the scrub, but Fang hurriedly moved to the opposite side of the tub.

Harry grunted. "I'm _really _not in the mood for games, okay? All I want is to get you clean." After thinking for a moment, he adopted an enticing tone of voice. "If you be good and let me do this, then I'll give you a treat! How does that sound?"

Fang sat calmly in the water, seemingly accepting of the proposition, but Harry decided to creep carefully towards him all the same. It wasn't so much sneaking up on Fang, because the dog stared at Harry all the while as he slowly got closer and closer, which led Harry to assume that Fang was perfectly alright with his babysitter's intentions. It wasn't until the very last minute, however, when Harry discovered just how wrong he'd been.

He figured that acting as fast as he could would prove beneficial, but it turned out to only make matters worse. Harry lunged at Fang in an attempt to restrain him while he scrubbed, however, Fang jumped out of the tub in the blink of an eye. This left Harry to go plunging face-first into the soapy water, his front half submerged while his lower half dangled over the side. The tub was deep enough that Harry's legs were left slightly dangling in the air as he kicked furiously to help right himself.

A trail of water had followed behind Fang when he leaped out of the tub, and combined with what had splashed over the side when Harry plopped into the tub, this left the floor of the hut a dangerously soapy and slippery area. Fang came up behind Harry right as the teenage wizard managed to seesaw himself to fresh air again, his top half soaked to the skin. While Harry coughed and sputtered, he failed to notice that Fang had taken a sudden interest in his still-sticking out butt. Fang regarded the body part of Harry's with curious eyes and was content to just sit there and stare at it for a few moments before he moved in and firmly planted his teeth into it.

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" Harry exclaimed, arching his head back as he shouted out.

Through the pain in his rear, Harry could feel himself being pulled away a few inches from the tub by Fang, but he didn't have the time nor the patience to consider the possibility that Fang was merely trying to help. He started wriggling violently to try and free himself from the hound's grasp, but Fang wasn't relinquishing his grip in the slightest and as a result, Harry heard the sound of tearing fabric behind him. He didn't register the significance of the sound until it was too late and by then, he'd already twisted around in such a way that the momentum combined with Fang tearing the seat of Harry's pants off caused Harry to go tumbling right back into the tub, only this time, his whole body fell in.

Harry lay there in the water for a few dazed moments, too shocked initially at the turn of events to do anything else. As he looked at Fang through water-dotted glasses, though, with Fang's head tilted to the side and the ripped piece of pants still in his mouth, Harry was propelled into action.

He jumped to his feet and hopped his soaked self out of the tub and made to go after Fang, but he forgot about one thing: the floor was now slippery from all of the spilled water. Harry didn't make it very far before he started losing his balance, kicking his feet out desperately beneath him while flailing his arms futilely. A few moments passed as Harry comically attempted to regain his footing, but to no avail. His feet finally gave in to the soapy surface beneath them, causing Harry to fall, land on his back with enough force to make him slide across the floor and right into the open and awaiting cage of Fang's. Harry skidded all the way inside so that his feet collided with the back end of the cage with enough strength to cause the cage door to slam shut and the latch to lock, effectively sealing him inside.

Due to the close quarters, Harry was rather scrunched up inside the cage, but he didn't dwell on that fact. Instead, he immediately struggled against the door to desperately try and free himself.

"Bloody hell!" he snarled. "This can_not _be happening!"

The door wouldn't budge.

For a while, Fang regarded the scene with mild interest, but he soon turned away and walked over to the big armchair, hopping up into it, dropping the pants piece in his mouth and curling up contentedly.

A lightbulb clicked on in Harry's head and he instantly moved his hand back to grab his wand ... but his palm closed around only empty air. His wand had no doubt slipped away in the tub, especially with most of his back pockets gone.

Harry sighed deeply and rested his head against the bars of his new and permanent prison until Hagrid showed back up tomorrow. "I hope you're happy," he all but barked at Fang.

From the look on Fang's face, it appeared the dog _was _quite happy with this new turn of events, and thus rested his head down, ready to enjoy the rest of the weekend.


End file.
